


Halloween 6: The Curse Of Thorn

by idrilhadhafang



Series: Halloween 6: The Rewrite [1]
Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, Horror, Jamie Lloyd Deserves Better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang
Summary: Nine years after the murders of Halloween 1989, Jamie Lloyd seeks to mostly get on with her life. Unfortunately, the boogeyman does not rest so easily, and Jamie may find that she is drawn into a horror beyond what she ever imagined...





	Halloween 6: The Curse Of Thorn

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: So I haven’t seen Halloween 2018 yet. I know, I’ve fallen drastically behind on my Halloween watching and such — I remember being big into those movies when I was nineteen. I thought that I’d give Jamie Lloyd the closure she never got, because...Jamie Lloyd deserves better.

The jail cell where Michael Myers was confined was the only cell that was even remotely quiet, in the end. The other prisoners jabbered away like fools, but Michael was perfectly still, as he had been in Smith’s Grove all those years ago. Of course, he had been six then, and he was now forty one (it had been nine years since he had been imprisoned, and his niece was now eighteen years old), but some things never truly changed. There was no regret, no remorse in his stance, not even boredom or anger — Michael was nothingness, and he played that part to the hilt. 

Even when the gunshots rang out, Michael didn’t even flinch. Even when a familiar silhouette appeared, clad in black, Michael merely rose to his feet in one graceful, fluid motion and faced the figure. 

“We have work to do, Michael,” the figure of Dr. Terence Wynn rumbled. “Come.”

They exited the jail. There was one guard alive, screaming in pain where Wynn’s bullet had failed to kill him. Michael raised his knife and brought it down in one motion, stabbing through flesh, organ and bone. The guard died instantly. 

The rage was ever consuming. It only subsided when he killed. Sometimes people could put dents in it, such as Loomis, Laurie

_Cynthia_

and Jamie. But most of the time, the rage was there, quiet yet powerful and unstopping. It was what kept him going all these years. Loomis shooting him hadn’t stopped him. The police — stupid, easily stompable insects — hadn’t stopped him. 

It was in the van that Wynn took the wheel. Michael knew how to drive (Wynn had been...persuasive in giving him lessons when he was sixteen), but Wynn drove for now. 

“I have to say I’m disappointed in you, Michael,” Wynn said, and his voice became less deep and menacing, more casual, even fatherly. “You couldn’t kill the girl in the attic? Why? Because of a moment of sentiment?”

Michael didn’t look away. One couldn’t say that anyone could read what he was feeling behind that ominous white mask, but in truth, Wynn’s words did sting a little, because they were the truth. It was almost like that night in 1978 when Laurie — when _Cynthia —_ had called him by his name. It had stopped him in his tracks, stopped the rage temporarily. He hadn’t known what he was thinking when he unmasked for the little girl — it was like he, the Shape, boogeyman, evil on two legs, monster, had been stopped in his tracks by a nine year old girl appealing to whatever shreds of Michael were still in him. 

Loomis must have known it. 

Disgusting creature. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” Wynn said.

Michael didn’t nod, but his silences said volumes. 

“You were weak. Unbalanced,” Wynn said. “But I know you won’t fail again.”

Michael couldn’t help but seethe under Wynn’s words. Wynn thought he could control him, thought that he could use him as a human weapon. He was wrong. He wouldn’t strike just yet. But when he did, Wynn would regret everything that he ever put him through. All in the name of Thorn...

Wynn obviously thought that he was able to be controlled. Killing on command, like a trained attack dog. But he would learn how wrong he was soon enough. 

He, Michael, would betray them all. 


End file.
